


live by the sword (swear by the shield)

by pharmakon



Series: Steven Universe [5]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Aliens, BAMF Stevonnie, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Dark, Future Fic, Gen, Gladiators, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Slavery, Spoilers for Episode: s05e18 A Single Pale Rose, Spoilers for Episode: s05e25 Legs From Here To Homeworld, Spoilers for Episode: s05e29-32 Change Your Mind, the power of friendship (TM)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15943370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pharmakon/pseuds/pharmakon
Summary: Steven and Connie get stranded on the other side of the universe, far from Gem Space and far from backup.Too bad the planet they've landed on isn't friendly towards strangers.(Or: the gladiator fic that this fandom might as well have.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a little darker than what I usually write, mostly because there's actual blood and violence in it that doesn't include rocks being chipped or shattered. It's not meant to be all grimdark, though-- just a little more intense.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven and Connie get stranded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a little darker than what I usually write, mostly because there's actual blood and violence in it that doesn't include rocks being chipped or shattered. It's not meant to be all grimdark, though-- just a little more intense.

"Steven, where are we?" Connie stared at the tall spire city in the distance and scooped up a handful of pink sand. "I've never seen a pink desert before.  _Or_ a white sky." The sky scared her, actually; it was pure white, with darker clouds, and it made the landscape look like a half-finished painting, with just a few magenta clouds thrown onto the canvas. The city worried her, too-- it was too harsh, too hazy with what looked like more than a mirage. She got the feeling that whoever lived there wouldn't be all that friendly.

It reminded her of those old pulp sci-fi books her dad had used to let her read, actually. She half-expected to see Cormac the Barbarian or someone come riding up on a noble steed.

"I don't know," Steven said worriedly. "The warp pad doesn't usually go here. Like,  _ever._ Maybe we should've made sure the Gem monster wasn't following us before we warped."

Connie remembered the fight-- how it had continued as they warped, how the monster had nearly bitten off her arm, how they'd been flung out of the column of light that would have led them home and into the void between destinations-- and shuddered. If Steven hadn't bubbled them, they would have suffocated. Instead, they'd landed in another, dimmer column and had been thrown all the way out here. And the warp pad they'd landed on had stopped working as soon as they'd stepped off of it. 

But things weren't too bad just yet, right? They'd just make the best of things until the Crystal Gems tracked them down. If this planet was connected to the warp network, the Gems should be able to find them. "Well, there's no point worrying about that now," Connie said firmly, straightening her posture. "We don't have any food, do we?"

Steven fished around in his pocket and pulled out a sandwich. "Just PB & J," he said, making a face. "It's kinda stale, though."

"How long has that been in there?" Connie asked, morbidly curious. Steven gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. 

"Do you think we should fuse? If those are aliens, they might not be friendly, right?"

The  _Gems_ were aliens who weren't friendly, at least until recently. Connie was suddenly reminded that to Steven, Gems were as normal as humanity. Not aliens, really, just different. These would be the first completely _alien_  aliens that either of them would ever meet. 

"We should fuse when we get closer to the city," Connie decided. "Until then, we should save our strength. Plus I think it's easier to hide when we're smaller."

"Okay!" Steven frowned. "Maybe stay kinda close, though. We might need my bubble."

"Understood."

The city was farther away than it looked, and even though the desert wasn't actually that hot, their travel took its toll. Connie resorted to wrapping her jacket around her head like a head scarf; Steven held his shirt over his head for shade. The pink sand pooled into their shoes. After a few stops to shake them out, Steven and Connie unanimously declared it a lost cause and gave in to the feeling of grit between their toes.

The day dragged on. They split the sandwich.

By the time the city came closer in their sights, the sun was setting orange-gray and the desert was getting colder. A few alien reptiles skittered under rocks and into the sand whenever the kids got too close. Connie's stomach growled, and she wondered reluctantly if they were edible.

The city was made up of tall orange spires and towers, glowing in the light of sunset and illuminated by thousands of artificial lights. A few of the towers spat dark fuchsia smoke into the air like factories. 

Its gates were hundreds of feet tall, stone and iron and, Connie thought, heavier than all of Beach City combined. Worse, its gates were  _closed._ " _What_ ," Steven complained. "But I'm really hungry."

"Maybe we just need to knock?" Connie guessed. She walked up and knocked politely. No response. 

"Let me try." Steven knocked a lot louder, but there was still no response. "I'm not sure this is working, Connie."

Connie glared up at the battlements, then sighed. "Maybe we just have to wait till morning." Hopefully the city wouldn't turn out to be, like,  _Space Mordor_ or something. She kind of felt like it would, though.

Steven sucked in a breath, and Connie glanced behind over to him in confused alarm. Steven grabbed Connie's hand, and pulled her to the side, hiding flat against the city walls. "Someone's coming."

Connie looked at the path up to the gate and stared. A long, silent caravan was trailing up to the city gates, each storage unit hovering soundlessly over the sand and guarded by floating motorcyclists. At its head rode a group of aliens: the tallest was furry, with a thick tail and four arms; the two at their sides were smaller, with eyes that took up half their faces and spines running down their backs. She was surprised at how humanoid they were, but she guessed it made sense with the way the city was built. If they were really weird, she and Steven wouldn't have recognized it as a city in the first place.

"Whoa," Steven breathed, staring at the alien technology. Connie nodded in minute agreement-- talk about intimidating. The tall alien leaped off the vehicle in front and strode up to the city gates before pressing a glowing hand to the doors. The gates slowly slid open, and Connie tensed, clutching Steven's hand. These guys looked like bad news; as soon as the gate was open wide enough, they had to be prepared to make a run for it. 

"Get ready," she whispered.

The gate was half open, and Steven tensed up too, getting ready to run. Three quarters, and the first vehicle of the caravan started to go through. Four fifths--

One of the storage units thumped suddenly, jerked to the side, and flew open, and a group of people streamed out. Other vehicles started to fall, lolling to their sides and breaking open, and the desert filled with shouts. "Now!" someone yelled, and one of the big-eyed aliens jolted forward with a spear sticking out of their chest. Another group swarmed up around a different vehicle and dragged out a few of its occupants, shrieking war cries. The motorcade riders dismounted and drew crackling, glowing weapons as the escapees charged them. 

Connie stood frozen, paralyzed with adrenaline, until Steven yanked her arm and yelled, "Let's go!"

Then they were running. 

The gate was almost all the way open, the prisoners streaming through them and clashing with what looked like city guards. Connie ducked under a slashing weapon, almost lost her grip on Steven's hand, and jumped a crashed motorcycle. They were almost inside the city walls--

And someone grabbed the back of Connie's shirt hard enough to choke her, hauling her back and pressing something cool to her throat. Her hand slipped out of Steven's, and he turned around, wide-eyed. "Connie!"

"Go, Steven," she choked out. "I'm-- I'm fine, just go--" He shook his head, backing away from the fighting. His gem was glowing like he was debating starting a fight. Connie wished she hadn't lost her sword in the warp dimension. If she could get this weapon away from her throat, maybe disappear into the commotion... She struggled, and the blade cut into her flesh and drew blood. "Let go of me!"

"Please," Steven pleaded. "We're not prisoners, we're just visitors. We just needed to get into the city." Around them the fighting started to die down as prisoners were recaptured. Connie saw one of them get tasered in her peripheral vision; they fell twitching and jerking to the sand as they were dragged back into the cell units.  _Bad news_ was right.

"You run, I kill her," her alien captor growled. Connie felt blood trickle down her neck. "Don't need ones as small as you."

Steven looked at her helplessly, then sagged. "You don't have to do that. I'll go with you." What? No, Steven, you're supposed to fight!

"Good," the alien said, sounding satisfied, and one of his compatriots strode up and restrained Steven. Steven didn't fight-- he just looked at Connie and tried to smile as they were dragged away and thrown into a different cell unit. 

The doors closed on them, and Connie felt Steven's hand at her throat as soon as they were released. She held still as he licked his hand and pressed it against the wound; when the stinging pain faded to nothing, she slumped and clutched at his hands. " _Steven_ , why didn't you run? You could've gotten away."

"We're supposed to stick together, remember?" They were squished right next to the door; the only other occupants of the cell unit were at the back, huddled together. One of them was snarling under their breath, and the other was slumped and quiet. Steven glanced over to them (Connie only felt the movement, ensconced in darkness as they were) and said, "Um, what is this place?" He sounded like he was trying to stay cheerful.

His voice was shaking.

"Slave transport," the angry one said. Her voice sounded tired, hoarse with lack of care. Connie wondered how long she'd been held prisoner here. "Don't you know that, foreigners? We're being brought into the city. More fools us, thinking we could escape even in this crowd."

Slaves? Connie's blood went cold. That wasn't-- that wasn't a good word.  Steven shook his head, hair brushing against her shoulder, and said, "We just got picked up because they thought we were prisoners. What's this planet called?"

Connie  _felt_ the alien's stare, this time. "It's called Mirra. What sort of creature are you?"

"We're humans," Connie cut in. Who knew how Steven's Gem heritage could be taken here? "And we're-- lost. Teleportation accident. I'm Connie, and this is Steven."

The alien snorted. "Teleportation! That's a fool's gamble if I ever knew one. Who _knows_ where you'll end up?" She cradled her companion's head and said more softly, "I am called Liefa. This is Tamman. I don't believe he'll be alive much longer." Tamman gave a pained, rattling breath, and Liefa flinched at the sound. "Perhaps," she said, sounding like she was mostly talking to herself, "it will be better that way. Even death is better than where we're going." It was like a line out of one of Connie's fantasy books. She wished she were even half as brave as most protagonists. Maybe then she wouldn't feel like her heart was pounding out of her chest.

"But you don't want him dead," Connie said slowly, trying to calm her mind. "If-- if he could be healed, would you want him to be?" Steven quivered, and she squeezed his arm.  _Wait. We don't know if healing him would make things worse._ It hurt, though, seeing someone suffering and being unable to help. 

But you didn't need permission for life-saving measures...

"That's impossible," Liefa said suspiciously. "We don't have any healing tech. And anyone this injured will be culled on arrival." Connie could barely feel the unit moving under them. When was  _arrival?_ She imagined being dumped out into a slave auction, chained and separated from Steven, maybe even being taken to another planet-- how could the Gems save them then? Who would stay with Steven to keep him from getting depressed? He could probably escape, but she didn't know if she could. Maybe she could commandeer a ship like Lars had, try to get back to Earth herself and hope her pursuers were taken care of by gems...

"We don't have healing stuff," Steven said, pulling her out of her planning. He crept closer to the pair of aliens. "But my spit has healing powers. I think-- I could help him. If you'd let me."

"There isn't any known species that can do that," Liefa said. "You said-- you're  _humans?"_

"Something like that," Steven told her. "If I could, though--"

 _"Yes,"_ Liefa interrupted. "A thousand times, yes. If you can do it. Though I know not how I'd repay you." She was talking like a character from a book. Connie felt a moment of disconnection, like this wasn't actually real-- like they weren't actually here. A dangerous feeling. It could distract her in battle, Pearl had told her, could make her negligent and slow her reflexes. She pinched her arm to stave it off.

"Just try not to get hurt again," Steven said with a worried smile. He concentrated, licked his hand, and pressed it to one of Tamman's wounds. For a long moment, nothing happened, and Connie panicked, thinking that the aliens would retaliate against them for this, how would they even _fight_ in this closed area--

Then the alien's wounds started to glow pink, Steven's gem lighting up like a firefly, and Tamman woke up and gasped. Liefa cradled his head. "Tamman? Did it work, are you all right?"

Tamman's mouth worked wordlessly, then he glanced at Steven and Connie, back to Liefa, and said ruefully, "I take it the escape attempt didn't work."

"Not even close," she sighed, but there was an undercurrent of relief in her words. "These children were captured along with us."

"We were trying to get into the city," Connie explained, and Tamman snorted as he pushed himself up. 

"Without proper license? Fool cubs, you don't just go through the front gates, you have to sneak through the sides. Bribe a guard, maybe. You don't just  _walk in._ " He laughed, not meanly. "No wonder you were caught. Anyone without some kind of official documents is freehold, in these parts. You're lucky you even got to stay together."

"Tamman," Liefa said in warning, and he fell silent. Connie felt her blood run cold.

"Where are we going, then? Now that we're in the city."  _Lucky to stay together,_ god. Maybe she and Steven should have fused. But if they noticed that two had gone in and one had come out... Connie had no frame of reference for the worst that these people could do, except that it was really bad. Homeworld wouldn't have dissected a fusion, but then, Homeworld knew what fusion  _was._

Tamman shrugged. "Our group? Probably the arenas. Maybe work slaves, if we're lucky. Most of us are fighters." The gaze he set on them was full of pity, and Connie grabbed for Steven's hand instinctively. Steven squeezed back and moved closer to her side. "I'm afraid that children as young as you, if you're sent to the arenas, will likely be used as bait."

Connie tensed up. "What's bait?" Steven asked. His voice was as shaky as Connie felt.

"It means they'll send us in as practice for fighters," Connie said, before the aliens could answer. Wikipedia had taught her this much, even if it had been in an article about dog fighting. "Right? Just so we'll die." 

"That's right," Tamman said. Liefa snarled under her breath. "But you might be sold as work slaves, too. A healing power like that has a lot of uses, and you--" His gaze cut into Connie like a knife-- "have the hands of a scribe. Not to mention the work that slave children are meant to be raised into. The arenas aren't your only option. They'll buy most of us, sure, but not all. Some will survive."

" _We'll_ survive," Liefa insisted. "We've not lived this long to be killed for _entertainment_."

Connie clenched her fists. Neither had she and Steven. "Do they give bait weapons?" 

Tamman looked at her. "I wouldn't worry about that," he said, ears pinning back to betray his concern. The same body language as mammals from Earth, then. That might be useful to know. "You might be sold elsewhere yet." 

"Right," Steven mumbled, keeping close to Connie, and they spent the rest of the ride in silence.

*

The transports opened with a hiss of new air, and painful light streamed into the darkness. Tamman and Liefa hissed, obviously not used to such brightness, and Connie covered her eyes. Steven's hand still clutched at hers, and he pulled her back behind him. Connie tugged his shirt down so it wouldn't show his gem. 

"All right, come on out," a guard grunted, and rough hands pulled her and Steven out of the transport, fixed strong cuffs around their wrists. Liefa and Tamman were pulled out, too, the slavers ignoring their desperate snarls to pull them into another line. In the bright morning light, Connie could see the variety among the prisoners-- their gills, their horns, their unique skeletal structures that were obvious even from a distance. It would have been fascinating, if she and Steven weren't in such imminent danger.

Connie felt a sharp bolt of panic as Steven was pulled away from her and shoved into another line and cried out, struggling against her captor. "Wait! No, I'm supposed to go with him--  _Steven!_ " If they were separated-- how would the Gems ever _find_ them-- The guard cuffed her _hard,_ making her vision go black for a second, and she heard Steven cry out.

"Connie!" A pained sound from one of the guards, an outcry, and Steven was rushing back to her, cuffs left broken and sparking at his feet. "You're not taking her!" Steven snarled. "You're not, I won't  _let_ you--"

The guard dropped her and readied his weapon; it crackled with electricity. "It seems you have a death wish," he hissed, and for a moment Connie thought Steven was going to bubble them both, going to try to escape, and where would they go? They had no food, no water, no shelter, and in this city they'd be obvious, they'd be  _sitting ducks--_ even if they managed to escape the slavers, this city was so cutthroat that they might just starve on the streets, if the Gems didn't rescue them soon enough-- "Who am I to keep you from your desires?" He pulled Connie up by her cuffs, ignoring her grunt of pain, and held his blade so close that she could feel its charge against her skin.  _Identifying weaknesses,_ Connie thought with gritted teeth,  _and acting on them._ It was obvious that Steven cared about her more than he did himself. 

It rankled, being so useless. What had happened to being Steven's knight, his defender? She could hardly be his partner-in-arms if she was busy being a _damsel_. That was twice now that threatening her had made Steven fall in line. "Try to escape," the guard said, "and I kill this one. Come into this line, stay  _together_ as you wish, and I leave this one be. It's your choice, slave."

"His _name_ is Steven," Connie forced out. Steven wavered, then came closer to her and held out his hands. Another guard put a different pair of cuffs on him, these ones thicker and stronger, and shoved him into line. Connie was shoved after him. 

"You shouldn't have done that," she said quietly, once they were out of immediate earshot. "You were gonna be sent to be sold. I think these are the gladiators." She bumped her shoulder against his. "But thanks, Steven. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have to make up anything," Steven said fiercely. "We're partners, we're always better together. We'll do a lot better in an arena fighting than we will as, like, factory workers or something, right?"

Connie thought of the videos she'd seen of dangerous factories, of child labor and all the deaths involved, and shuddered. "Yeah, I guess so. And we'll be more obvious to the Gems if we're somewhere public." Never mind that gladiators often  _had_ to kill their opponents. A fifty percent death rate was probably worse than any immoral factory. Probably.

Steven bit his lip. "I don't want you getting hurt, though." He laughed a little sadly. "I don't really want _me_ getting hurt, either. I kinda hoped we were done with all this stuff after Homeworld."

 _And_ after they'd come back from Homeworld with the Diamonds in tow. Now Steven was almost fifteen, and Connie was thirteen, and they still had to fight people. As thrilling as it was, Connie had to admit she was getting really sick of it.

"We'll be okay. As long as we're together, we can get through anything."

A sharp jab at her back, and she bit back a cry of pain. "Shut up and get moving," one of the slavers told her gruffly. "We've got a ways to go before we reach the arenas."

 _The arenas._ Connie huddled close to Steven, both to reassure and to give herself courage, and strengthened her resolve. She had sworn, back when she'd begun her sword training, to protect Steven at all costs. To fight so Homeworld would leave Earth alone. It had never been only a game. She wasn't just doing it to imitate characters in  _books._

Steven was the other half of Stevonnie, her partner through thick and thin, the nicest person she'd ever met-- nothing could describe him well enough. He was her first and best friend. She hadn't known everything about him when she'd first decided to fight his battles, but that didn't change anything. What was an arena fight to fighting _Blue Diamond_? What was a gladiator to a Gem monster? 

Connie felt resolve harden her heart. They were Crystal Gems-- fighters who'd confounded a pair of Diamonds, who'd fought in tandem to defeat Corrupted monsters, who'd survived for days on an abandoned moon.

This planet didn't know who it was dealing with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some slight edits, mostly for grammar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate fight scenes now and forever. Why am I writing them? Only the gods can say. Anyway, this totally takes place after 'Change Your Mind' because I don't think I said anything in Chapter One to contradict that.

The cell they were placed in after they were purchased was barely bigger than Connie's living room, and the only light came from the thin gap between the bottom of the steel door and the floor. It was permeated by a nauseating smell of rot and feces, strong enough to make Connie and Steven cover their mouths with their shirts from where they sat in the corner near the door. There were six other aliens in the cell with them, from what Connie could tell; four of them had just glanced at her and Steven and looked away, some faces more hostile than others. but the other two had remained slumped against the far wall. One of the two slumped ones was shivering violently and hugging themselves. The other was perfectly still, curled up to face the wall.

The guards had made them march for two hours through the labyrinth of the city streets, driving them past crowded tenements and bustling marketplaces, vague-eyed gamblers and ragged street children. Some of the citizens, a mosaic of alien races, had jeered and spat at the newly bought slaves. Most of them had just looked away.

At one point Connie had seen one of the street children stumble in the street just in front of a low-hovering cart. She'd broken out of the line, had pulled the kid out of the way, and had been hit hard across the face for her daring. She could feel her cheek swelling and her eye closing up from the blow; the blood from where the slaver's claw had slashed her face was already dry and flaky.

She hadn't let Steven heal it yet. If there was anything she'd learned from her year or so of fighting with the Crystal Gems, it was that in desperate situations, a little injury went a long way. She could keep the pain for a little while, as a reminder: this is what happens if you fail.  _But it won't just happen to you._

It had happened, and would keep happening, to the others in this cell. To  _Steven._ She had to remember that.

"So what are you supposed to be?" one of their cellmates finally croaked, turning towards them with half-raised wings like an aggressive seagull. She-- Connie thought she was a she-- looked a little like a metallic-feathered griffin, about half the size of Lion with a long, raised scar across her left wing. She continued, "Not something from the United Systems. Not Republic weaklings. Not  _Outlands._ What are you?"

"We're humans," Connie told her. Better to err on the side of caution, right? Who knew what these aliens knew about  _gems._ "We're-- not from this side of the galaxy."

"Right," the griffin alien drawled. "Shit luck ending up here, then." 

"Could've been worse," one of the other aliens mumbled. "Could've been  _killed._ "

"Better killed than  _dishonored!"_ the griffin snarled. "You think we're going to last here? You think anyone's going to last? That one over there's already dead!" Connie saw Steven jerk awake and follow her gaze with wide eyes, and realized she was pointing to the slumped figure in the corner. 

Steven choked out, "They're dead?" His eyes were already welling up with tears. "You couldn't help them?"

"Can't help a gut wound-- hey, what are you doing?" Steven was already moving toward the body, reaching out to touch it-- "It's been there for weeks!"

Connie shot a glare at the griffin and got up to join Steven just as he choked and jerked back, letting the body slump back to the ground. The smell of rot grew unbearably strong. They weren't going to be here forever, Connie reminded herself as she covered her nose to breath through her mouth. They were going to get out of this.

But that body looked like it had been  _gutted_... "Come on, Steven. I think it's too late to help them."

"No, really? Too late to help after death? Who would have thought!"

Steven came back to sit with Connie, pale and shaking. Oh. He'd never had to see a dead body before, had he? Connie bumped his shoulder, and he wiped his eyes and looked up. "It's not always too late," he said, only half-steady. "I had to check. What's your name?"

The griffin ruffled her feathers. "I'm called--" She made a whistling/clicking sound that neither of them could hope to reproduce. Seeing their blank faces, she added, "It means  _Quick Wing."_

"Quick Wing," Steven repeated. "Okay. I'm Steven, and this is Connie." He looked over at the other aliens. "Who are you guys?"

The alien who'd responded to Quick Wing earlier said, "Jiji."

A few of the others said their names, too, perking up and moving a little closer. "Dunno what the one in the corner's called," Jiji said, casting a six-eyed glance at the shivering kid on the other side of the cell. "They got thrown in here a few hours ago. Think they're drugged or something."

Steven and Connie exchanged glances, and Steven stood and went over to the kid. Connie didn't know if healing powers would work to get a drug out of anyone's system; instead of observing, she asked, "Why would they be drugged?"

Quick Wing yawned, showing a beak full of serrated teeth. "Psionic powers," she listed diffidently, "strong fighter, vocals that can pierce the ears, crying too much-- whatever the Baron wants, really."

Crying too much? Connie didn't think she liked this Baron _._ "Who's he? Does he run the arenas or something?"

"He runs everything," Jiji told her. "The whole city."

"He watches all the matches," another one of the aliens volunteered. "Sometimes he sponsors gladiators, if he really likes them. Buys them himself, even."

Steven came back with the kid from the corner, who was still shivering but at least able to stand. They looked a lot like Sapphire, Connie realized, but half as big and without the hair: dark blue skin with one eye in the center of their skull, dainty features and delicate limbs. Sapphire would never look so fragile, though-- would never get so fragile, not with Ruby always with her. "Are you feeling any better?" he was asking the little kid; the cyclops nodded and curled up next to him when he sat by Connie, burying their head in their arms.

"Have any of you gone into the arena yet?" 

Quick Wing said, "I went in once, with the corpse," flicking her wing at the dead body at the other end of the cell. "You get thrown in a little room with a bunch of weapons, because they like to humiliate you by watching you try to fight. Then a fighter who's supposed to go against another useful gladiator comes in, and they're supposed to whet their weapon's thirst for blood with  _you,_ before they fight their newest challenger. We got a big  _Cantra_ warrior-- he eviscerated the corpse over there with one blow and gave me these scars." She bared her teeth and said, "You don't have a chance, human, if one of  _my_ species couldn't take him out."

Connie told her, trying to match her bravado, "You haven't seen what we can do yet." Quick Wing glared and didn't answer.

Steven piped up, "So where are you guys from? How did you get here? We walked up to the gates and just, uh. Got grabbed."

Jiji asked incredulously, "Just tried to walk in?" She shook out her fur, eyes glinting in the barely-there light. "Silly of you. I'm from the Republic. My ship got attacked by pirates, so they sent me out in an escape pod, but." She blinked hard. "Got picked up by someone else instead. Dunno where everyone else is."

"War prisoner," Quick Wing growled. 

The cyclops remained silent, but one of the other two aliens said, "Streets," and his companion rumbled in agreement. 

"How long do we have?" Steven asked. 

Quick Wing gave a diffident whistle. "We're fine for today. They only want bait for really _big_ battles."

"Great," Connie muttered, and the conversation trailed off into silence.

*

The day passed in a tense, bored haze; Steven and Connie talked with each other softly, planning on what to do if they were separated or if one of them was hurt, while the other kids alternately slept, fought, or ate the scraps of food they were given. Steven gave half of his rations to the little cyclops, who was skinny enough that their ribcage showed through their skin. Connie gave half of her rations to Steven.

She felt the same way she felt before a big mission with the Crystal Gems: restless and anxious, high on adrenaline and more than a hint of fear. She had Steven with her, she told herself. They'd be fine. 

But Garnet wasn't here to make predictions and plans to avoid them. Pearl wasn't here to jump in to the rescue, Amethyst wasn't here to be their bruiser, Bismuth and Lapis and Peridot weren't here to back everyone up... It was just them, and maybe a few allies who couldn't do much of anything, and a bunch of aliens who wouldn't blink an eye if they were both torn to pieces in front of them.

They'd probably  _cheer._

Connie had read about human rights abuses online, of course, and she'd gotten her parents to donate to respectable charities to try to stop them. She'd sent letters of protest to senators about bills that would hurt people, and she'd joined in online discussions about activism, and she'd even gone to a protest or two. One of them had been in Empire City. 

This, though-- this was right in front of her. This was _involving_ her, and Steven too. Slavery, hurting little kids, killing people for sport and for entertainment... That was fantasy stuff, not the kind of thing that happened in real life. Connie could hardly think of it as real, it was so wrong. But...

In stories the hero always had to overcome incredible odds. Lisa had to fight her way to a volcano, and go to other worlds, and face terrible dangers to finish her quest. Every sci-fi hero ever had to face off with aliens who were willing to kill them as soon as look at them. Connie may not have had a magical destiny, or a magical sword, or any powers, but she could strategize. There had to be some way to get everyone out of this okay. She just had to find it.

She didn't know how much time had passed when the door finally opened and every kid jumped to their feet like they'd been shocked. Quick Wing bared her teeth but kept quiet, staying near the back next to one of the street kids; Jiji whined low in her throat and winced away, nearly running into Steven and Connie. One of the guards stayed by the door with his electric spear drawn while the other stalked in. Connie grabbed Steven's hand and glared.

"We need at least two of you," the guard cajoled. "Maybe three, if we see the right ones. Don't any of you want to volunteer? You never know, do you? Maybe you might live."

Quick Wing snarled, "We know what we're here for."

The guard cast a languid glance at her and smirked when she puffed her feathers and stepped back. "Do you," he said. He lunged out and grabbed one of the kids closer to the door by the arm, dragging them to their feet with a rough yank. "This one doesn't seem to know where it is at all." 

Connie's blood ran cold. That was the little cyclops-- the one that looked like Sapphire--

She couldn't let them die. "I'll volunteer," she said, hating how her voice shook. The guard looked at her with something resembling surprise.

"Well, all right. Come over here, then." Connie straightened her shoulders and tried to remember all her training. If they took a third--

"Me too," Steven added. His hand didn't leave Connie's. "I'm going too. And that makes three, doesn't it?"

"It does," the guard said, nonplussed. "Can I assume that you have something of a death wish?"

Connie didn't say anything. 

The three of them were dragged through the hallways and up into a small room with an giant, barred door at one end; light streamed through it, bright as the desert sun, and Connie could see the arena from where they stood. It was covered in pink dirt and splattered with what looked like multicolored blood, with a few weapons racks at different ends closer to the audience. She could see some of the audience, too-- aliens of all shapes and colors, dressed in bright fabrics and talking among themselves, leaning to see the arena better. The guards barred the door and stayed by it, weapons at the ready, but they let the three of them go. There were no weapons in the room itself.

The cyclops started crying; Connie kneeled to meet them face to face and said, "It'll be okay, I promise. Steven and I can fight. We won't let anything happen to you."

The little cyclops sniffled. "I don't want to die," they whispered in a high, fluting voice. "But that's what happens to everyone they take out. We won't be any different."

"We'll protect you," Connie said helplessly. What if they were expected to kill each other, too? What if they couldn't win? She didn't  _know._

The gate opened behind them, and she faltered, looking at Steven. "Should we--"

Steven shook his head. His smile wavered on his face. "Let's do that in the arena. Like a show, right? Like in movies."

Connie clutched at his hand. "I'm scared," she admitted, and hoped it was quiet enough that the cyclops wouldn't hear. "Do you think we'll win?"

Steven's smile faltered completely; the guards took that moment to prod them in the back and bark, "Into the arena."

"It's okay," Steven whispered just as they went out into the sun, close and quiet like a secret shared. "Connie, we'll be okay."

His hand was shaking.

*

The white sky was almost blinding with sunlight, and the pink dust all over the arena made Connie think of the giant strawberry fields lush with fruit, of Rose's glimmering fountain. It was incongruous, to say the least. A sea of spectators rose up diagonally from the edges of the stadium, clamoring and cheering and making enough noise to drown out Steven's murmur to the cyclops.

Connie felt like an ant under a magnifying glass. All these people were here just to see them _die_. 

The weapons racks were at opposite ends of the arena, to their left and their right, furnished with spears and maces and polearms longer than Connie was tall. Most of them had rust at their tips. The other side of the arena had a barred gate identical to theirs that was barely starting to creak open. "We're probably gonna face someone bigger than us," Connie yelled over the chaos. "Should we fuse now?"

Steven shook his head and mouthed,  _just a little longer._ His eyes were worried, but he knelt to murmur something else to the cyclops, pressing a hand to their shoulder, and the little alien ran close to the gate and huddled into a ball. The crowd jeered. Steven caught Connie's eyes and glanced over to the weapons rack, and Connie prepared to run for it--

The gate at the other side opened, and a monster barreled into the center of the stadium. She froze, and the crowd roared; in one of the two boxes overlooking the stadium, a light blinked on and an accented voice said,  _"This is a death match! On one side we have the Cantra Goreclaw, three-time winner against the monsters of the wastes and potential challenger to the Baron's favorite competitor! On the other are two aliens captured in the desert and a single war prisoner. Will they survive for more than a minute? Or will they merely whet Goreclaw's bloodthirst before the true spectacle begins?"_

Connie shared an incredulous glance with Steven. They had an actual  _announcer?_ And their opponent was standing there, too, weaponless just like them and apparently waiting for the speech to stop. Connie took the time to take a good look at their opponent as the announcer thanked his corporate sponsors. For a second the whole situation felt as surreal as a dream.

The Cantra Goreclaw had tusks that jutted out from their-- his?-- lips and curled up towards his cheeks. His skin was covered in thick bristly fur that looked like it had been white at some point, and he was wearing heavy metal armor that covered his chest and crotch. His legs were the size of tree trunks; at his full height, Connie thought, a little lightheaded, he would be as tall as Opal. His fingers ended in long yellow claws. Connie remembered that a Cantra had killed the body in the cell and thought, _this might be the same one_. A murderer.

She wanted a sword in her hands. She wanted to be flanked by the Gems, to be sure she could poof this enemy and be done with it, to be _fused_ \--

The announcer stopped advertising and took a deep breath, audible over the microphone.  _"Ready?"_ he asked the screaming crowd.  _"Match... start!"_

The Cantra charged, and Connie immediately realized their mistake. Their opponent was as fast as _Garnet_ _._ They couldn't fuse before he reached them. Connie dove out of the way and rolled in the dirt and saw Steven do the same. Separated, they were  _separated--_ Connie saw the monster turn to the cyclops and yelled, "Come and get me!" She could do this. She could  _fight._

The monster stiffened and turned to her, glaring through bloodshot eyes, and Connie immediately regretted everything. She ran for the weapons-- a spear, Pearl had taught her how to use at least a spear-- and he lunged at her faster than thought. Connie reached the weapons and managed to grab one of the smaller spears just before the Cantra backhanded her across the arena. 

Connie hit the wall at the other side with a  _crack_ and blinked at the white sky, dazed. _"Ladies, gentlefolks, and others-- we have first blood!"_  Her ears were ringing, something wet seeping from the back of her head, and everything was fuzzy and hot with pain. Then Steven's voice reached her-- "Connie!"-- and she reached up to grasp his hand.

"Got a weapon," she had meant to say, but Stevonnie found themself saying it instead. Okay then. They rose to their feet, spear in hand, and thought,  _this is much more reasonable as a_ gem _weapon!_ Then they glanced up at the crowd, which had gone silent for a second before roaring even louder, and summoned their shield. "You want a fight?" they yelled, feeling out their body. Connie's injuries were mostly taken care of by Steven's powers. They were fine. "Pick on someone your own size!"

The monster had chosen a wicked mace from the weapons rack, and he was turning to face them, really fast but not fast enough-- 

Stevonnie charged. 

The mace glanced off Stevonnie's shield and sent a jolt through them them that jarred their teeth; Stevonnie lunged low and brought their spear up into the monster's thigh. The Cantra roared and slammed a hand into Stevonnie's side-- Stevonnie bubbled themself and rolled away, spear in hand-- and the announcer exulted,  _"What's this? The two aliens have fused into one!"_  

Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious. The Cantra snarled and swung the mace into the bubble, taking advantage of Stevonnie's distraction to make it pop, and they caught the blow on the shoulder before they could dodge. Stevonnie choked back a cry and backed up, scrambling onto their feet. Their knuckles clutched white around the spear. 

"It's a death match," they muttered to themselves, "only one of us gets to live, that's what they said-- but we can't just kill him-- but if I don't,  _I'll_ die, and so will the cyclops--" They couldn't use all their powers now. If they fought more, they'd need to have trump cards to pull out against worse foes. It was hard to remember that in the heat of the moment. But if they wanted to kill their opponent--  _no!--_ they'd have to go for the eyes, the mouth, someplace vulnerable--

The mace came down again. Stevonnie rolled to the side, dripping blood on the pink sand, and leaped into the air. 

The spear had a blade like Pearl's, not an arrow-point but longer, meant for slashing more than stabbing. If they descended at an angle, if they were quick enough-- They cut into one of the monster's eyes, and bloody flesh splattered onto his fur. 

The Cantra screamed and slammed his arm into the dirt, shaking them loose, and Stevonnie gasped as the wind went out of them. The monster snagged them by the throat while they were shocked-- they'd cut out his _eye--_ and lifted them thrashing into the air. His grip tightened, choking the rest of the breath out of them. Bubble, they had to create a bubble...

The monster suddenly loosened his grip, spasming as blue sparks went up and down his arm, and Stevonnie dropped to the ground with a gasp. That hadn't been them. Who-- _There_. The little cyclops had risen to their feet and was crackling with power, raising their hands as they sparked white and blue. The Cantra growled and turned towards them, started to run, and he would _kill_ them, Stevonnie knew he would kill them--

Stevonnie threw their shield and snatched up their spear, and when the monster turned to them in rage they put the blade straight through his other eye. He stiffened, hands twitching like he wanted to reach up and pull the spear out, and then his body sagged to its knees. He toppled like an oak.

_Thud._

The arena went hushed. Stevonnie wavered on their feet, then moved over to the little cyclops and checked them for damage. Unharmed. That was good.

The entire match had lasted for about five minutes.

They'd just  _killed_ someone.

 _"Well,"_ the announcer breathed through the microphone.  _"It seems the Baron's favorite has a new challenger."_

Stevonnie fell to pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Connie pushed herself to her feet. An angular drone dropped down and hovered near her face.  _"And may we hear the name and species of this new challenger?"_ the announcer's voice prompted. Connie stared.

"Stevonnie," she said. "We're Stevonnie, and we're-- human. A human." Connie needed to find Steven. It was hard to think of anything past that pressing insistent _need_. And the cyclops, where was the cyclops?

 _"The Human Stevonnie!"_ the announcer shrieked, and the crowd went deafening. 

The announcer went on about statistics and undiscovered species and how this was an unprecedented upset, a real dark creature victory, and they would surely be seeing these challengers again. Connie didn't fight when the guards ranged out into the arena and surrounded them, herded them back into the tunnels. She didn't fight when they were thrown back into the same cell, either. Her hands were warm and sticky with blood. She could smell it.

"--nnie?"

"What?"

"Connie," Steven said more loudly, and something forced Connie to look up, to meet his eyes. He was crying. "Connie, you're bleeding."

"I know," Connie said, or meant to say, but it came out as a mumble instead. Blood loss. Probably shock. Her mom had told her about all the problems that came with traumatic brain injury, about bleeding in the brain and personality changes and disorientation. Connie didn't want her personality to change. She had to-- " _Steven."_ She didn't want to change, she couldn't change, she actually liked who she was growing up into--

Steven cupped the back of her head with a wet hand, and a bright tingling feeling prickled from the touch through her eyes. Connie shivered and relaxed as the pain and fuzziness drained away. "Mmm. Thanks."

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked anxiously. His hands were covered in blood. It was on his  _lips._ Connie realized he must have panicked and licked his hand directly and almost laughed. 

"I'm fine," she promised him, trying to think of the blood as her own instead of someone else's. "I just got knocked around a little, that's all. Are  _you_ okay? I know-- in the end, we had to-- and it was  _my idea--"_

Steven jerked back. "It was Stevonnie. Not  _you._ Both of us."

Connie shook her head. "You wouldn't have thought of it." Or maybe he would have, but he would never have carried it through. And even if he  _had..._

Steven was gentle. Steven was kind, and sensitive, and brave, but she didn't think he could be brave enough to face this. He'd felt guilty because his _mother_ had allegedly murdered someone. Connie wasn't about to put an actual murder on his conscience. Anyway, she'd been trained in sword fighting. It only made sense that she'd have to stab someone for real eventually. "Is the cyclops okay?" Connie asked, and then, to the cyclops-- "Sorry. I don't think I got your name."

"Flute," they said softly. "I'm Flute."

Quick Wing finally cut in, feathers puffed like an excited cockatiel. "You're alive! What did you do, who did you go against-- no way that's your blood, ancestors  _blessed_ your fight--"

"Cantra Goreclaw," Steven told her shortly. "He's dead."

One of the street kids pricked his ears. "You killed the _Cantra_? How?"

Flute said, "They turned into one person and stabbed him through the eye.  _Whoosh,_ blood everywhere. Saved my life."

"You saved us first," Connie said, watching Steven carefully. His face was getting more and more closed off, and his hands were shaking. This wasn't a good topic. 

"What do you mean, turned into one person?" Jiji asked. "And does this mean you're the new challenger for Champion?"

"I don't know," Connie answered. She cast another glance at her best friend. "Steven, you didn't sleep well last night, did you? You should sleep right now. You might have interesting dreams." 

Steven looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. I can..." He sat down and shifted uncomfortably, and Connie got him to move his head to her lap. Like on Homeworld. He glanced at her upside-down, and Connie's chest went tight. "I, um. Are you sure?"

"I want to learn what we've gotten ourselves into," Connie said in way of response. She carded a hand through Steven's curls, and he sighed and calmed. After a long moment, his breathing slowed and he fell into a trancelike sleep. Connie poked his cheek to make sure he was out, then looked up at Quick Wing and the other captives and said, "Okay. Now we can talk."

Quick Wing cocked her head. "What, don't you trust him?"

Connie shook her head. "He doesn't like fighting. I'll just fill him in when he wakes up." She wished she could wash the blood off her hands. It felt strange, clinging to her skin and sticking between her fingers and getting under her  _nails--_ "I don't know anything about this place. What's the Champion? What's the  _Republic?"_

Jiji opened her mouth, but one of the street kids-- the taller one, with the purplish fur-- beat her to it. "Only if you answer some of our questions first."

"Deal," Connie said without hesitation. Then she frowned and asked, "Um, Ewa, right?"

"Yeah," the purplish one said. "And this one's Keev." Keev had thick scales and seemed halfway between quadrupedal and bipedal; his fingers had thick webbing between them and claws at every tip. "My turn. Where are you from?"

"A long way from here." Connie thought. How could she word this? "I don't know... we call it the Milky Way. It's disk-shaped from the outside, I think, and it has a.. barred spiral form? Or something? And it's the second-largest galaxy in the cluster of galaxies around it. I don’t know if we’re still in it.”

"I'm not enough of a scientist to figure that one out," Quick Wing said, sounding annoyed.

Jiji perked her ears and said, "It sounds like it isn't anywhere _near_ this galaxy. I know the Republic at least has reached most of the neighboring ones, and if you don't know about anything then you can't be from nearby, right? What are the other species in your galaxy? Have you met any other species?"

"Everyone's met other species," Ewa said scornfully. Keev nodded like the matter was settled. "That's a dumb question."

"At least she came up with a better one than yours," Quick Wing snarled. Flute twitched and went to curl up in the corner farthest from them all. "Well? What other species are there?"

Connie almost mentioned the Gems, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the derelict warp pad that had stranded them here in the first place, or the borderline-lifeless pink dirt that seemed to choke the surface of the planet, or the way they were looking at her... but she didn't think she should make her association with a tyrannical intergalactic empire so apparent. "It's pretty much just humans," she said, carefully not lying. "I don't... the few times we've gone to other planets, though, there's always been some kind of architecture already there. It's... really geometrical stuff, with murals sometimes and old tech. It was some of that technology that stranded us in the desert a few days ago."

Ewa frowned. "Never heard of anything like that," he started, but Jiji beat him to the punch.

"What did the murals look like?" she asked intently. "Could you draw one?"

"Who the _hell_ cares?" Quick Wing asked the air.

Four diagonal lines in the dirt near the door, where light crept in from the other side, formed a shaky diamond. She drew three others below it, then sat back to show the others. Jiji stared, pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

"Well? What is it?" Quick Wing demanded, since apparently she the hell cared. The deer-like alien turned her stare to Connie, and then to Steven. Her voice, when it warbled out of her throat, was wondering.

"You're from Dead Space," she breathed. "You’re _impossible!_ "

*

They had heard of gems. They just didn't know them by name.

"Everything in that part of the universe is sterile," Jiji was saying. "Expeditionary Corps go there and don't come back half the time, and when they do it's always-- they find a planet they've noted before, right, and it's just gone. They see life when they're surveying from our space, but once they warp they see it's out of date. All that's left is a bunch of holes and old technology, and nothing organic in sight. Entire planets hollowed out.”

"That's an egg-thief story," Quick Wing scoffed. "Why wouldn't these dead things have come here and killed us if they're so great?"

"Maybe they live too far away?"

Keev murmured, "But the Republic can reach them."

"Maybe you're lucky being here," Ewa said, eying Connie. "Seems like your world's next on the list."

 _Time_ for a change of subject. "What's this planet called?" Connie asked desperately. 

"Oshoni," Quick Wing said. “Mirra takes up a quarter of the planet if you count all the outskirts." Connie remembered the sight of it stretching all across the horizon and shivered. 

“But how’s such a big city stay alive? Cities need water brought in, and food, and-- and agriculture! I didn’t see anything like that here! Is it underground, or in the center of the city?”

Jiji looked at her carefully, then said, “It’s a trade city. Mirra relies on outside supplies for survival. It functions as a major node in the trigalactic network that comprises the alliance of the Republic, the United Systems, and the Outland colonies. Everything comes through here. And the Baron keeps it as neutral as possible. No skirmishes, no war. He’s repelled all attempted takeovers for the past one hundred years.”

“He’s been in charge for a hundred years?” Connie yelped. She hadn’t thought organics lived that long.

“More than that, if you count all the guild stuff,” Ewa added sullenly.

“You’re... all very politically conscious,” Connie said carefully. Steven groaned and shifted in her lap. “Is there a reason for that?”

“It’s not so unusual to know basic history when you’re affected by it,” Jiji said, turning away. Quick Wing made an irritated clicking noise.

“But you’re _not_ just affected by it,” Connie pushed. The alternative to considering logistics was considering how there was nowhere to wash her hands, how her hair when it got in her mouth tasted like blood-- “I don’t understand why we’re here in the first place. That shouldn’t have been an interesting fight! They didn’t know we could do _anything_ against that guy. There was no reason for us to be out there except so we’d die in a public setting, and even then it seemed more _demoralizing_ than anything! Why are any of us here? Why wouldn’t they just have killed you?”

Jiji pinned her ears flat. Quick Wing ruffled her metallic feathers. Flute, curled up in the corner, hid their face. It was only Ewa, looking disgusted at everyone, who bothered to answer. “ _B_ _ecause_ we’d die messily in a public setting. Everyone here is here because they’re important to someone important-- _don’t interrupt me,_ Keev, you know I’m right. I don’t know to who, or how, but everyone here is a hostage for some other being’s good behavior. ‘Cept for me and Keev here. We’re here because, and this is just a guess but I bet I’m right, we’re gonna die messy so all your people can know what’ll happen to you.” He bared his teeth at Connie, face contorting like an angry lion’s. “Those three? They’ve been here since before the dead one arrived. They’re still useful. You and your Steven are slotted to die before they are. Maybe even before the blue one.”

Connie fought to keep her face straight. It made sense. That made _sense_ , it just… why would anyone do that? Would they be tempted to keep Steven alive if they knew his importance, his connections, or would they just kill him faster? “And that’s… because of the Baron.”

“Yeah.” Ewa quieted. “Pretty much everything is because of him.”

No one spoke after that. Connie cradled Steven’s head in her lap, hyper-aware of every breath and movement around her, and tried to keep her breathing steady. Slowly, her legs went numb.

*

Steven didn’t look surprised to see her. “Connie,” he said, holding out a hand. “Come look at this.”

They were standing on a floating shimmery platform hundreds of feet in the air, pink mist lingering at their feet and at the bases of huge geometric columns. Below them the city of Mirra stretched out for miles, buildings jutting up from the sand like glittering daggers, reflecting the light. This high up they could see meandering trade routes, long thin paths connecting isolated spaceports to the gargantuan city. The spaceports themselves seemed to float, hanging in the air like paper decorations; toy-sized ships landed and took off from them with the air of agitated wasps.

The city itself didn’t look like a hive, though. It looked like New York mixed with a sci-fi version of Ancient Rome. Something built and maintained by people. In the center of it, like the eye of a hurricane, stood a tall spiky complex that dwarfed everything around it. Its needlepoint tower reached up to Connie and Steven’s eye level.

“It… looks like Gem architecture,” Connie said, staring down at herself. She was wearing her training outfit, impeccably clean. Steven had on his usual shirt and sandals. “Like what they left behind on Earth. I guess that explains the warp pad. Not why it’s still a planet, though.”

“Maybe it wasn’t right for making new gems,” Steven said. He went to sit on the edge of the platform, dangling his feet over the side. His sandals didn’t budge off his feet. Connie pushed back her trepidation at the height and sat beside him. “Peridot had all these details about what makes a good Kindergarten. Maybe there was just too much sand for it to work right.”

Steven wore a tranquil smile. Below him two magenta clouds collided and swirled together, casting new shadows on the city below. Connie felt sick. “Steven, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Connie.” He didn’t look at her. “The gems are going to find us any day now, and we’re going to get off this planet and take everyone else with us. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

“Steven.” She hesitated, then touched him on the shoulder. “The warp pad broke. And I think if Garnet had seen this, she would be here already. Gem ships can jump galaxies really easily, can’t they? If they knew where we were, they would have found us by now.”

“They wouldn’t have stopped looking so _soon_ . They’re going to figure out where we went. They’re _going_ to come get us. I just have to let them know where we are. Like on Homeworld.” Steven’s voice broke. “I just have to-- _reach_ them!”

The white sky went black around them as the platform juttered, throwing Connie to her knees. The wind picked up and started to howl, pulling at her clothes and her hair; she forced herself to her feet and stared up, up, up at the blinding constellations above them. They blinked in an abstract pattern, lighting and dimming in a mosaic of colors, humming until they pounded at her eardrums, behind her eyes inside her _head--_

The dream world went silent. Connie uncovered her ears and rose up. Steven was staring at her with tears in his eyes, wind calming around him. “I’m sorry,” he said brokenly. “I didn’t think.”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Connie assured him. “I guess if nothing else you can reach me.” She faltered. “Wait. If I’m asleep in the real world, then no one’s keeping watch. What if someone _hurts you_?” The magnitude of the mistake crashed down on her all at once. “I’m the one who told you to go to sleep! I should be watching, the guards could come in any moment to separate us and put us to death, or make us fight each other, or-- or anything! What am I doing here?”

Steven caught her hands and tugged them gently out of her hair. “Hey, it’s-- it’s okay. I think we’d probably wake up if that happened. Or, um. Maybe not. Maybe we’d just die.”

“Thanks, Steven,” Connie said sardonically. “That’s really reassuring.” She took a deep breath and looked at their surroundings with renewed interest, pulling her hands away. “Why is this where you ended up, anyway? I thought you had to be in someone’s head for the dream thing to work. Unless you’re possessing someone or being a psychic ghost, that is.”

“I… don’t know.” Steven looked bewildered. “I just ended up here. Here, let me try something.” He squeezed his eyes shut and reached out a hand, and the platform slowly started to rise. “Dream logic,” he gritted out. “You can… do anything. Sort of.”

Connie thought she might love dream adventures in just about any other situation. Heck, she kind of did even in this one. She took another second to steady herself, then asked, “What are we looking for?”

“I just have this feeling,” Steven started, and then yelped when the columns at the edge of the platform crashed into something invisible. Connie hit the floor, Steven crouching next to her with his shield raised above them, and the platform stopped to hover in the air. Connie crept out from under the shield to stare at the ongoing collision between column and sky. 

 _No--_  

Between column and _giant planetary shield._ She could see the force of impact rippling out from the columns, buzzing and spitting energy like an aggressive version of Steven’s bubble. It emanated across the horizon, what she’d taken as background revealing itself for a sparkling white surface. If Connie concentrated, she could see the stars behind the orangish outline of the sun. What did the sun here look like without the shield, then? Would it scorch all life from the planet? Why was there a shield at all?

“Connie, look!” She followed where Steven was pointing and saw the faint outline of a spaceship stop to sit on the shield as it buzzed angrily and flickered bright around the intruder. For a few minutes the ship just sat there perfectly still, and then the shield reluctantly opened just enough to let it through before closing behind it. All those floating spaceports suddenly made a lot more sense. 

“So this is why the sky is white?” Connie asked blankly. “But why would you even dream of this? It seems right, but you don’t usually just get information out of thin air, do you?”

“No,” Steven said. “Usually it’s from a human or a gem, or me possessing something. And I can’t be a psychic ghost if _you’re_ here. I don’t know how I’m doing this.”

“It definitely can’t be a human,” Connie said, “and it’s probably not possession or I wouldn’t be here either. Can you get into aliens’ minds?”

“I don’t know that, either. But I--” He looked back down at the tower at the center of the city, and his whole body twitched. He turned to Connie and his face was pale with sweat. “I, I think-- I--” 

The universe flickered and went dark. Connie lunged forward, terror pooling in her lungs. “Steven? Steven, where are you?” Everything was pitch black. Around her and behind her, below her, all of it was void and there was nothing holding her up, nothing keeping her from floating endlessly through space with no hope of rescue or even _death_ and what had just happened? Had they been attacked in their sleep after all? Was Steven hurt, was she hurt, was he _dead--_

Cold, slender fingers gripped her face, pressed bruises into her cheeks. Connie gasped and tried to jerk back, but the hands held her in place. She couldn’t see the arms attached to them. She couldn’t catch enough breath to scream. A soft voice exhaled something, so quiet she only heard it as a murmured fragment. 

“I-- I can’t understand you,” Connie stammered, heart pounding in her chest. “I’m sorry, I can’t-- I’m not the one you should be talking to!”

The fingers tightened until they were crushing her cheekbones, wrapped around her throat, cutting into her jugular and pushing at the corners of her eyes, _too many fingers too many hands--_

A warm body grabbed her wrist and yanked her back into the cell. She jolted up, Steven gasping awake beside her, and slammed back against the wall. Her legs were trembling so much they could barely hold her weight. 

Back to the smell of blood and rotting things. Connie choked through breath after breath, eyes watering at the stench, and tried to forget about the cold touch on her face, about the fingers brushed across her skin. Her hands were warm, even if the cell wasn’t. The corpse was on its back, tiny creatures squirming in its guts.. She was right next to it and couldn’t even care. Quick Wing was staring between her and Steven, wings half-open like she wanted to take off. “What just happened?” she asked, sounding more suspicious than scared.

Connie looked at her helplessly. Steven hugged himself, pale and still. “I don’t know,” he said shakily. The only light in the cell came from under the door, and it glinted dully on the hint of gem under his shirt. Connie wondered if they’d ever be let out without being taken straight to the arena. Surely they wouldn’t just leave them in darkness for weeks, there was no way they’d do that-- “I. I really have no idea.”


End file.
